


The Door

by DiabloAfterDark



Series: Analog Crossovers [2]
Category: ECKVA, Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Absinthe, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Horror, Cable Outage, Gen, Internal Conflict, Manson the Investigator, Psychological Horror, the TV knows all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29880621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiabloAfterDark/pseuds/DiabloAfterDark
Summary: “There will be a knock at the door. DO NOT OPEN IT!!”loosely based on the fifth episode of ECKVA by Troy Wagner.
Series: Analog Crossovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127528





	The Door

**Author's Note:**

> there are a few changes I made to suit the Golden Age of Grotesque era.
> 
> another note to add is this entry is shorter than the last.

The sky was glowing a cloudy white with a mighty thick fog cocooning everything in its path. Manson had only one lamp on, and he didn’t mind the odd mix of the bright mist blending into the living room. Manson sipped a little from his glass of absinthe, gazing into a graph of cases of SARS rolling high, which was printed on the newspaper being held. His legs twitched a little as he was sitting still on his chair. Manson closed his eyes as he sighed.

However, his eyes trailed to the window, which was on his left. Something, or at least someone was watching him. It had a smile, but it wasn’t joyful or welcoming. No. The smile looked like it wanted to kill or at least destroy him. Its eyes had no positive emotion too. Manson jumped a little.

“Fuckin’ idiot…” Manson sneered as he stormed to the other room, “How many times do I have to deal with this?”

The television played a jaunty tune, but Manson never paid attention to anything that happened on the screen while he sat on the couch. He still kept reading the article of the current events, muttering and making comments to himself. Then, the happy song abruptly stopped. Manson looked up toward the screen, showing the following text:

“PROGRAM INFORMATION… IMPORTANT INFORMATION FOLLOWS…”

The shrieking beeps pierced all the way through his ears. He clenched his eyes and teeth as if his head were going to blow. Manson opened his eyes again, but it wasn’t helpful as a robotic, glitch-like voice emerged from the television.

“ **Normal ECKVA service has been interrupted to bring you an important service announcement** ,” it said.

Manson quickly sipped another drink of his absinthe, as his heart was beginning to race.

“ **There will be a knock at the door. DO NOT OPEN IT!** ” The voice continued, “ **Stay inside today and watch TV.** ”

He turned his head to his left. Maybe that…person… _was_ intentionally planning to do some harm. He swallowed a gulp and sweat trickled down.

“ **This is very important.**

“ **This is very important.**

“ **Keep looking at me… Keep looking at me… Keep—** ”

Anything that ran by the electrical current toward the television was stopped before the broadcast was completed. Manson picked up the phone, pressing every number that represented a call for help. A ringing tone notified whatever or whoever may be on the other side. Instead…

“We’re sorry, could you hold the line, please?”

“Son of a bitch,” growled Manson, hanging up the phone frustratedly, and anxiously.

He shuffled to the room where he was sitting before he saw that horrid face. Manson peeked out and the face wasn’t waiting outside. Maybe it left to find another victim. Maybe it was waiting on another side of the yard. Manson felt his teeth rattle and his legs couldn’t move as if it was frozen like ice. One step at a time, he grabbed his journal and turned to the latest blank page to write.

_May 16th, 2003..._

 _The power was out,_ Manson wrote, _It caused the broadcast to be cut short. I have to drive out there to see what happened. Hopefully, nothing will go wrong on this incoming journey ahead._

Every word that he scribbled ranged from a rough imaginary texture to something smooth. Manson shuffled close to the door, his hand slowly wrapping the knob.

He prayed for the better…and then he slowly opened the door.


End file.
